


Choosing My Confessions

by jule1122



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Malex Week 2020, meet ugly prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:49:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25247926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jule1122/pseuds/jule1122
Summary: Meet Ugly Prompt 42.  I’m talking about how “anyone could make this” at an art gallery and I didn’t realize you’re the artist
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 38
Kudos: 140
Collections: Malex Week 2020





	Choosing My Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Malex Week 2020 Day 1 Meet Ugly
> 
> Title from REM's "Losing My Religion"

Of all the events Michael helps Isobel with, art shows are his least favorite. The gallery owner always watches Michael like a hawk while he helps set up the tables and drink stations like he thinks he’s going to knock over a sculpture or try and run off with a painting. It makes Michael want to act up, rattle a few things as he walks by, but he knows how important these shows are to Isobel’s business so he holds his tongue and behaves.

Unfortunately, instead of rewarding Michael for his restraint, Isobel forces him to attend the opening. Luckily it is a local artist showcase so the event and dress are pretty casual.. Isobel throws a jacket on him and doesn’t comment on his jeans or cowboy boots. But that also means most of the art displayed barely hits the level of his high school art classes, and there are a lot of very insecure artists hovering near their pieces looking for validation. 

After his fifth trip to the buffet has even the servers who know him rolling their eyes at him, he decides to make a strategic retreat. He finds a quiet area in an alcove of photographs. There are no nervous artists lingering, and he’d think the lowkey location led to the photos being overlooked if he hadn’t noticed every frame is marked as sold.

One of the reasons Michael hates gallery openings so much is that he just doesn’t get the point of art. He’s not shitting on creators, you want to make something, go head. But he’ll never understand glorification of something objectively useless. Michael’s life has always been about necessity, everything he has needs to have a function and a purpose, preferably more than one to justify spending what little money he has. He’s heard Isobel’s husband brag about an art collection he uses to impress clients. Noah could care less about any of the pieces, but the amount he spent on one painting could feed Michael for a year or would have saved him from sleeping in his truck his first winter in Roswell. It pisses Michael off.

But these photos are different, and that pisses Michael off even more. The desert landscapes are a mix of color and black and white.. Michael recognizes most of the locations, hell, he could have taken some of them from the back of his truck on the nights he spent looking at the stars.. The photos aren’t anything special, looking at a photo of a single cactus bloom shouldn’t make him feel things. 

But something about this collection feels like his story. Michael looks at the photos and feels the loss, the loneliness, the hardship that comes with living in the desert. But he also feels the strength and determination that have allowed him to survive. HIs favorites are a group of photos taken at the closest reservation Michael recognizes from some of the salvage work he’s done for Sanders. The people are turned away from the camera and life depicted feels like something from another century. Except for one detail, too prominent to miss, that lets you know this is what life is like on the reservation now, not some historical record. It’s just the kind of fuck you vibe Michael appreciates.

He’s still glaring at the photos when the most gorgeous guy he’s seen in a while comes and stands next to him. He’s dark hair is either what Isobel would call tousled or he runs his hand through it alot. His leather jacket shows off his shoulders, and his tight black jeans let Michael know he wouldn’t be disappointed in what’s underneath. Michael doesn’t even try to pretend he isn’t checking him out, and the man’s answering smile lights up his dark eyes.

“You don’t look very happy to be here,” he observes.

“I’m only here for my sister,” he nods to Isobel who is holding court in the center of the room. “She organized the event, and I helped her with the set up. Just waiting for her to let me off for good behavior.”

“Not sure glaring at the art counts as good behavior.”

“You call that art,” Michael snorts. “Anybody can do that. I bet half the people here have better photos saved on their iphones.”

“You’re probably right.”

He looks amused, and Michael thinks something good might come of this night yet when Isobel makes her way over to him.

“Michael,” she says too brightly. “I see you’ve met Alex. Try not to monopolize his time. His work is the talk of the show so he needs to mingle.”

Isobel nods towards the photographs, and Michael feels the blood drain from his face.

Alex, Michael knows his name now, smiles charmingly at Isobel. “We hadn’t quite gotten to introductions. Alex Manes, amateur photographer.”

He holds out his hand, but his hand shake is brief and perfunctory. Michael sees his chances of getting laid go up in smoke. “Michael Guerin, professional asshole.”

Alex’s laugh is a thing of beauty, and Michael once again mourns his lack of social skills. “I’m sure you’re very successful,” he tells Michael.

Isobel whisks Alex away after shooting Michael a confused look. He just shrugs and decides to call it a night before she finds out what he said.

A few hours later, Michael is on his second beer at the Pony when Alex sits next to him at the bar. Before he can say anything, Maria leans across the counter to hug him.

“Alex!” she shouts happily over the music. “How was the show?”

“Good, I guess. Everything sold.”

“I knew it! Drinks are on me tonight,” she slides a beer over to him.

Alex accepts it, blushing slightly. “Don’t get too excited. I was also told most people take better pictures on their iphones.”

“What tasteless asshole said that? I’ll kill him.”

Alex looks over at him, and Maria turns to him with narrowed eyes.

“Don’t rat me out,” Michael groans. “You’re going to get me banned again.”

“Banned?” Alex raises his eyebrow.

“Guerin, here,” Maria jerks her thumb over to point at him. “Has a bit of a temper.”

“Only around bigots. Come on, Maria, if you would just ban Wyatt Long and Racist Hank, I’d be a perfect angel.”

“I wish,” Maria turns to Alex. “Small town politics. You remember how it is.” She gives him one last smile before she’s pulled away to fill more orders.

“So, you know Maria?” Michael asks when the silence starts to become uncomfortable.

“I grew up in Roswell. She was one of my best friends.”

“I’ve lived here for ten years. How have I never run into you before?” Michael would definitely have remembered Alex.

“We must have just missed each other. I left the day after graduation, and have only been back for about six months. I usually stick close to home.”

“When you’re not out with your camera.”

Alex looks at him like he can’t believe he said that. Michael shifts in his seat.

“About what I said at the gallery, that was out of line.”

“Don’t worry about it. You didn’t hurt my feelings or anything. I was only in the show because of a friend of a friend situation. I have no illusions about my talent, and I’m not looking to start a new career as a photographer.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Michael doesn’t know why he feels the need to explain, but he does. “Living here, it basically sucks and most days I hate it. I should just pack up and take off, you know, anywhere but here. But there’s something about the desert, especially when I’m alone, that keeps me here. I’ve never been able to explain why, even to myself, but when I looked at your pictures, it all made sense. And I kind of hated that someone else figured it out before I did.”

“Thanks,” Alex ducks his head and looks away. “Photography is pretty new to me. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a musician. Always had a guitar in my hand, used to write my own songs. When I left after graduation, it was to join the Air Force. I came home ten years and three tours later and couldn’t even pick up my guitar. Just looking at it makes me feel like a fraud. My therapist suggested trying something different so I started taking pictures. And I can’t believe I told you all that.”

“I have one of those faces,” Michael teases, noticing how tense Alex had become.

Alex looks at him critically. “You’d photograph beautifully.”

“Didn’t know you did nudes.”

Alex throws his head back and laughs. Michael really, really wants to kiss him.

“Are you trying to make the worst possible first impression?”

“At least this way things can only get better, right?”

“It depends,” Alex smiles but Michael can see the wariness in his eyes. “What is actually involved in being a professional asshole?”

“Pretty sure it’s a broad category, but in my case, I’ll give you the short version. Grew up in the system so you can fill in the blanks about what my childhood was like. Isobel, my sister, and Max, our brother, were adopted, I wasn’t. As soon as I aged out of foster care, I moved here to be closer to them and brought my abandonment and anger issues with me. I drink too much, and I prefer to push people away before they get close enough to hurt me. Oh, and I’m a chronic underachiever. Certified genius, but college wasn’t in the cards so I fix cars and haul scrap metal for the local junkyard.”

Alex is quiet long enough that Michael decides to pay for their drinks and call it a night, but then he starts talking.

“I know you’re attracted to me, but you haven’t seen my scars. Not just the physical ones,” there’s a bitter twist to Alex’s smile that Michael hates. “But we’ll get to those. I’m sure you won’t be surprised to hear I have PTSD, but while the Air Force made it worse, I was pretty fucked up by the time I enlisted. My father started trying to beat the gay out of me before I even know what that meant. So I can handle loud noises and fireworks, but a certain tone of voice, being called by my last name, having someone stand over me can send me straight into my own head. Not my favorite place to be.”

“You don’t have to tell me any of this.” 

“I know, but what you said about my photographs, most people don’t get that. They tell me they’re pretty, but nothing about them, about me, feels pretty. I think you understand that. I like taking pictures because I can do it from a distance. I’m not good at being close to people. My first instinct is to run before things get too real which is pretty ironic now since I left part of my leg behind at the end of my last tour.” Alex taps his right shin with a cane Michael hadn’t noticed he carried. “If you can deal with how that looks, I’m still a shitty bed partner. I don’t sleep much, and when I do, the nightmares are a bitch.”

“Who said I had any intention of letting you sleep?” Michael figures that will land one of two ways. Either he gets Alex to smile again or he comes off as the world’s most insensitive dick, and Maria really will ban him for life.

Alex shakes his head, but he does smile. “You really have no sense of self-preservation, do you?”

“No point in playing coy now,” Michael shrugs. “I think you’re sexy as hell, and we could make a hell of a pair.”

“You think so?” Alex slides his hand across the bar toward Michael.

“I do,” Michael places his hand over Alex’s. That simple touch shouldn’t quiet some of the buzzing that’s always in Michael’s head, but it does. The part of him that doesn’t trust anything good makes him ask, “Unless I’ve already scared you away.”

“You’re the first person I’ve enjoyed spending time with in longer than I can remember. I like how you make me feel. And please don’t turn that into a sex joke.”

Michael mimes zipping his mouth shut just to make Alex laugh. 

“You ready to get out of here?” Alex asks.

“Do you really need to ask?”

“I don’t know how much you had to drink before I got here. Are you good to follow me home?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” A few beers with no acetone isn’t a problem. That thought makes him stop Alex with a hand on his arm as he starts to get up. He’s never considered telling anyone the truth about himself, but somehow he knows if he goes home with Alex tonight, it’s just a matter of time. “Full disclosure, I have one more secret, but you have to earn that one.”

Alex tilts his head and studies Michael’s expression before nodding. “I can do that, but I won’t have anything to give you in return.”

Michael knows that isn’t true. Alex has no idea what he would have already given Michael for him to be able to share the truth about what he is, but he can’t say that. “How about this, when I tell you my secret, you play a song for me.”

Alex stands the rest of the way up and holds out his hand for Michael. Once Michael accepts it, he smiles, “Deal.”


End file.
